Chapter 25 Reality Check

With Sierra back in her girls’ group, Aria slipped her earpieces back in and tapped on the rain sound file, hoping for a quick nap to escape the classroom's endless voices.

The minutes ticked by as the class carried on. Aria managed to tune it all out, lost in the sound of rain, until nearly an hour later when the boredom became too much even for her. She sat up, stretching, glancing toward the door as she debated whether to duck out early. Just as she moved to stand, the door swung open, and the students immediately snapped to attention. Instructor West had entered.

He cleared his throat. The classroom was silent, all eyes fixed on him. 

 "Alright, everyone, it’s time for the results! I’ve got good news and bad news, and I think I’ll start with the good news first. Finally, after years of testing your knowledge and pushing your limits, I have the pleasure of announcing that someone has achieved a full score on my test - a perfect 100!” He pretended to wipe away a tear, his voice filled with pride.

 “It’s been a long time coming, and I couldn’t be prouder! Now, go ahead and turn on your tablets to check your results.”

Students hurriedly activated their devices. Among the academic group, confidence radiated from their smug smiles, each of them eager to see who had outdone the rest. They exchanged quick, self-assured glances, certain that one of their own had claimed the top spot.

However, as the seconds ticked by and everyone began reading their scores, the confident smiles began to wane. Confusion spread like wildfire as students glanced around the room, exchanging suspicious looks. 

The leader of the academic group raised a shaky hand.

 “Sir! May I ask who got the full score?” 

“I scored a 99, the highest from our group, and there’s no way anyone else did better. Not the meatheads, or Harry, that’s for sure.”

“I can see you all are dying to know who the star of the test is. Well, I’m pleased to inform you that the student who achieved a perfect score is Liana Hale.” West announced casually.

The leader of the academic group’s jaw dropped. 

“No way! That new girl?!” 

Enzo shot up from his seat, his face red with frustration, practically shaking his tablet.

 “With all due respect, this can’t be right, sir! There’s no way she answered them all! I mean, there weren’t even 100 questions to begin with! The last one was blank, just a tiny question mark in a circle. What was the meaning of that?” His voice held an edge of anger.

 “Ah, question 100. You don't know what it means, that's why you lost a score. It was a test of observation, critical thinking, and, yes, common sense.”

 West continued, “The instructions for the test, which were written at the beginning, stated that every question had an answer, and if any seemed empty, it meant you were missing something. If you looked carefully, you’d notice that tapping on the question mark brought up an answer box."

 Enzo’s face grew redder. 

“But, that’s…! That’s just a cheap trick!” he stammered.

“Cheap trick?” West shot back.

 “In the field, split-second judgments, careful attention, and patience save lives. This test wasn't just about knowledge, it was about handling the unexpected. Miss Hale passed not only because she knew her material, but because she used her head and read instructions carefully. So,” he glanced around the room, his gaze landing back on Enzo, “if you’d done the same, you might not be standing there making excuses.”

"Then... then… what was the answer, sir?” Enzo asked.

"Oh, the answer? It was actually pretty simple. That symbol was one of the old signals that lights up on the dashboard of the Mk 1 and Mk 2 tank mechs. Those older models would show this particular indicator whenever there was a malfunction or damage, and the pilot needed to check for it manually. Of course, the newer Combelt III mechs have an updated system, so it might not be fresh in everyone’s minds… but it's still part of your training.”

He paced across the front of the room, explaining.

 “The trick, though, wasn’t just knowing what it meant. I painted that exact symbol on the ceiling of this classroom - right above your heads. All you had to do was look around, find the mark, and write down where you spotted it.”

West’s gaze landed on Enzo.

 “If you knew what this symbol meant, like you’re expected to, you’d have figured it out. But instead, here you are, making a scene over it. And let’s be clear - Jacob got it right, and he’s only been here a month. Yet the rest of you still missed it. All you do is learn the most critical material you expect to find in the test but you don't even bother to remember small details. Shame on you. Really."

Enzo, still flustered, stammered, "But... Sir, with all due respect, we’re training to pilot the Mk 3. Why would we need to know about outdated systems like the Mk 1 and Mk 2? It’s not relevant if we’re going to be using the latest models, right?"

West eyes bore into Enzo and the academic group.

"Who in the hell told you you’d be getting your hands on Mk 3? Let me break it down for you - those are reserved for the elite squads, the top of the top! Scrubs like you just out of training will get hand-me-downs, mechs that have seen so much action they practically run on duct tape and prayers. You'll be lucky if you get one that even fires straight after the beatings it’s taken. Frames so bent they don’t drive in a straight line, arms welded back on so many times the aiming's barely there - and you think the military’s going to put their best tech in your hands just because you passed some tests?"

“Newsflash, rookies: the best gear goes to the best pilots, plain and simple! And with your records, I don’t see that happening any time soon. Enzo, you and your group may be top on paper, but let’s look at your VR tank mech scores. You’re barely keeping up - just barely above Harry! And damn, that says a lot!”

The room fell silent, some students shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

“So here’s the deal. You want to complain about trick questions? Fine. But know this - when you finally get out there, you’ll be crawling into mechs so busted up they’ll have symbols and systems patched together from three generations of tech, and no one’s going to be there to hold your hand or explain it to you. You’ll need to know every blinking light, no matter how old, if you want to survive.”

 “So sit goddamn down, shut up, and stop daydreaming about the fancy gear. When you earn it, then you can start complaining. Until then, save the griping for someone who cares.”

West clapped his hands together with a sharp, cutting clap that echoed across the room.

“Alright, now that Enzo’s had his reality check, let’s move on to the bad news.”